Rend
by sketchyneuron
Summary: Chapter 2 is here! Takes place after EC. Butler goes through some weird stuff. Artemis eventually will meet up with midgets again, don’t worry. R&R plz. My first fic too, be nice. Rated PG-13 for later, somewhat-graphic violence
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Eion Colfer owns EVERYBODY! I only own these EVENTS, in my own ideas, using HER characters, and I have no money anyway, so there's no reason to SUE!!! BWAHAHAHA!!!  
  
Butler is the main focus of this story! Poor Dommie is left out a lot in stories, awwww. *pets chibi neko Butler*  
  
Takes place after EC. Butler goes through some weird stuff. Artemis eventually will meet up with midgets again, don't worry. R&R plz. My first fic too, be nice.  
  
My first fanfiction, and I'm slightly nervous. I'm currently being swamped with homework, so expect an update about every two weeks, give or take a few days. I hate when people write a fanfiction chapter and promise and never touch it again. I hate it more when someone writes a piece, and doesn't use a spellchecker, punctuation, and doesn't read it again to make sure that they are using the words the right way (Their, they're, there, it's pretty simple, people). I solemnly swear that I WILL update as much as possible, reread my stuff BEFORE I submit, and WILL NOT start any other stories BEFORE FINISHING this one. Now that my rant is over, I also want you precious people who will read my fanfiction to understand that I dorm 4 nights a week, and our horrid computers think that fanfiction.net is an EVIL little site filling our brains with PR0N, VIOLENCE, and HATE. So, no updates until weekends, sorry.  
  
Rend  
  
Chapter One  
  
Butler sighed, and stirred his glass of beer. The bar, which usually had its share of cheerful drunkenness every evening, was a decidedly reserved and sober building tonight. This was partly to do with Butler's immense girth, as he had to squeeze into the largest booth the bar stocked. If you wanted to make someone look like a Butler, all you had to do was find any reasonably well-built person, make them proportionally two feet taller, and implant football pads inside his/her body. Then, make their fists only slightly smaller than their heads, and force them to do every form of exercise known to humankind every single day. That essentially made up the physical appearance of a Butler. However, for once, his mind was not focused on staying in shape, but rather on a question of activity. He hated to admit it, but as much as he respected and obeyed Artemis Fowl the First, it just wasn't the same anymore. Artemis Jr. was, he confessed, a much more exciting person to be around. Unfortunately, since the man had shown up and recovered, he'd ended the Fowl Legacy of crime. Instead, he had sent Artemis to the most expensive boarding school in the world, and had taken up religion, to the boy's utter disgust. Unfortunately, as the boarding school often had had bullies taking world leaders' children hostage for ransom or for some law to be passed or vetoed in a country, it now had a strict rule which it enforced harshly. A small but officious plaque was now mounted upon almost every surface within a two-mile radius, dictating:  
  
NO ADULTS, OTHER THAN TEACHERS AND OTHER EMPLOYEES, ALLOWED ONTO SCHOOL PROPERTY. PARENTS MAY MEET THEIR CHILDREN ON WEEKENDS, HOLIDAYS AND THE CHILDREN UNDER THE CARE OF THE TEACHERS AND EMPLOYEES, WILL ONLY LEAVE THE PREMISES ON FIELD TRIPS AND SUMMER HOLS. TRESPASSERS FOUND UPON THE SCHOOL GROUNDS WILL BE SHOT AT, THEN FINED WHATEVER AMOUNT OF MONEY THE HEADMASTER/ HEADMISTRESS DEEMS APPROPRIATE  
Signed *scribbleloop* *scrawled figure* *blotch* *meandering line*  
  
Needless to say, this meant that Butler, for the first time in his life, was forced to remain home in Dublin whilst Artemis went gallivanting across Europe to the top-secret location of the boarding school. Butler felt almost left out.  
As Mr. Fowl no longer went in for crime, Butler had less to do in the business of protection, and had much more leisure time. More time than he could possibly know what to do with. This was partly a good thing, as he had to admit that even the most trained and healthy Butler got old eventually. He had been ashamed earlier that year to drag himself to the pharmacy and buy some painkillers and medication for arthritis. Although he had just had his forty-fifth birthday in November, he felt like he was in his sixties already.(1)On the other hand, although he could feel his body beginning to degenerate, and was grateful for long naps after his exercises, he couldn't help feeling useless and bored.  
And so what was one to do after trying to delay the inevitable, but go to the bar and drink away, and forget that your charge was nowhere in sight, earshot, or protection range.  
  
The barkeeper sighed and looked across the room through the cigarette/cigar haze at the slumping mountain of human muscle, threatening to suffocate itself against the table, which must have stuck painfully into the hulk's abs. The bartender much preferred those annoying yet happy talkative drunks that spilled their life history and treated you as a Catholic confessional priest, than these horribly depressing, sober-until-unconscious, brooding, and threateningly violent alcoholics. This particular specimen of dipsomaniac was the largest he had yet seen, and looked as though he could tear apart the bar with one of the large hands, now covering the entire drained beer glass. Sometimes, thought the barkeeper, I wish I had decided to be a bank teller, or an ice cream man. That way, I would only occasionally have to face threats and guns pointed at my face, asking for money, or continually be hounded by bratty children. Anything but having to kick that guy out at closing hour.  
  
1. Hint, hint, nudge nudge. I couldn't resist putting this in.  
  
*end chapter one*  
  
I will update as soon as I get two reviews, and I'm sorry that this chapter is inaccurate, crappy, unfounded, OOC, short, and, so far at least, plotless, but I need to check out the fowl books from the library and double-check a few facts. Researching, if you will. So, be patient, this crap will turn into crap with a plot, SOON. Possibly tomorrow, if I can get to the library. 


	2. Chapter Two

*pokes butler* Oh come on, you promised you would say it!  
  
Butler: No. I'm shy. Gimme back my Artemis doll. *hides beneath the bed* Me: Dommie, you can't hide under my bed, you're so big that none of the bed's legs are on the ground! Butler: Awwwwwwwww... *gives Bambi eyes* Me: Nope, you still gotta say it. *glares* Butler: Fine. sketchy neuron doesn't own me, or my wittle Artemis, or my ugly sister, or the entire cast of "Artemis Fowl" and she doesn't want any lawsuits, so leave her alone! Can I have my Artemis chibi back now?  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Butler grunted and stumbled out into the night in Dublin. He was suddenly, hopelessly lost, among the smeary signs outside of late-night cafes, and the head-pounding music of local discos. Feeling a sudden urge, he blundered to the nearest alleyway, and the beer ended up inside the nearest dumpster whose lid he could pull off in time.  
He stood, in the alley smelling strongly of urine and trash, panting heavily, tasting the acid in his mouth from the vomit. The smell got stronger. Butler hadn't been this inebriated since he was thirty-seven, and Mr. Fowl had gone missing. Butler had drunk alcohol as though he firmly believed Christ's claim that it was holy, and wanted to become a saint through overdose. Juliet had managed then to get him off it, but it had taken a long time, and Butler had felt like hell. The responsibility of Artemis Jr. had also managed to call to his mind and put aside the bottle. Who was, ironically, the reason he was drinking right now.  
He wasn't too surprised (drunk people rarely are) to see a blurry, furred head poke up through the hole he had made in his attempts to open the dumpster and snarl at him. He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the apparition and mumbled, "B'groff, you." (1)  
Two seconds later Butler was convinced of the creature's reality, as it had pulled itself halfway through the tear in the metal and began to attack Butler - what it could reach of him, anyway. Which turned out to be Butler's head, shoulders, and the waving arm in its face.  
Few things can anger as easily as an intoxicated Butler. This particular one had ingested enough alcohol to kill a giant bull elephant. The fact that Butler was still alive and mentally functioning while still having a seventy-five percent alcohol content in his blood was a tribute to biology and human evolution. At this point, Butler would have been set off by a mere tap on the shoulder. You never messed with a drunk Butler.  
With a roar like an enraged panther, Butler grabbed at the animal, and attempted to grapple it to death with his bare hands. Immediately, his hands were shredded and bleeding openly, and Butler howled with pain and indignation. He hauled the emaciated cur out of the dumpster, cruelly indifferent to the rough edges peeling off mangy fur and skin, and tried to crush it under his full weight of three hundred pounds.  
Above them, a patch of smog hovered indecisively, then a metallic click could have been heard echoing throughout the alleyway, if there had not been two snarling combatants entwined below. The haze lowered itself very carefully about two meters down, and waited tensely for an opening.  
Butler smashed a heavy fist down on the writhing, thrashing thing, between the eyes, but it still seemed unfazed. It dug its short claws into his chest, and, using its back legs, pushed Butler off itself almost effortlessly. Butler smashed into a wall, painfully, along his back, cracking some of the mortar and bricks, and sending up a cloud of filth billowing up into the already polluted air. This seems familiar, thought the tiny bit of Butler that wasn't drunk or caught up in the action. It's like déjà vu, or something.  
Meanwhile, the beast had managed to get back onto its feet, turn its head upwards, and roar at the sky, in the direction of the small vapor cloud. This pause in the battle gave the haze the chance it needed. A loud report blasted through the air in the narrow space. The brute dropped to the ground suddenly, like a cinderblock. Its eyes went opaque, and it shuddered, then went still. A small pool of crimson blood began to bubble up from the missing chunk of its head. A bullet could be seen among the bits of wet fur and the remains splattered across the broken slabs that made up the tiling of the alleyway. It glinted in the dim light from the street behind Butler.  
Butler, who had seen a lot of violence before, in training and in protecting the Fowls, started to shiver uncontrollably. Seeing bodies at your feet was one thing. Seeing bits of them was quite another matter.  
The haze shivered solid, and a two and a half foot figure in a uniform and a set of metal dragonfly wings in back floated down in front of a half-conscious Butler. Sighing deeply, the miniature being removed its helmet and proved to be what looked like a sixteen-year-old munchkin, minus the stupid clothing. Pushing a mat of tousled blonde hair out of his face and shaking his head to free a pair of pointy ears from their confinement, the strange humanoid tucked the helmet under his arm and turned to face the limp Butler leaning against the battered brick wall, staring at this newcomer.  
"Private Axel of the LEP sir! Sorry for the lateness sir! but I wasn't allowed to break cover unless both you and Dirk were both in the shadows, and you were screened, and I didn't realize you'd go into the trash receptacle with Dirk in it, sir, and then I had to wait for an opening between the two of you. So, sir, very sorry sir!."  
The puny human, no, it wasn't a human at all, he had seen something like it before. what WAS the thing, anyway?  
While the youth rattled on and on about LEP and Dirk and his apologies, Butler did the only thing a seven foot tall, three feet wide, half drunk, perspiring, half conscious, exhausted, badly injured, lonely, confused person being bombarded with half memories, located in an alley smelling of a urinal in Grand Central Station, who has just met a flying midget toting a pistol, could do. He threw up again on Private Axel of the LEP.  
  
Drunk for "Bugger off, you!"  
  
*End of chapter 2*  
  
Woo, this was a hard one to write. I have a movie-like mind, and it's hard to put down in words every single detail from the movie in my head into words. Not to mention that this entire chapter is in the time frame of five to eight minutes long. Also, you have to take into account that many different things are happening at the same exact moment. I find it amusing that the only words that Butler has spoken yet are slurred drunken swears. Did anyone pick up the pun with Axel's name? A cookie to whoever figures it out.  
  
I've only once been to Europe - Amsterdam in Holland. Of course, I did go four years ago, so I only have vague memories, but I read a lot of literature on the image of London, and Dublin, so I try to keep Ireland as close to the real thing as possible. *sigh* I only saw Ireland from the airplane, and all I could see was that it was a.) Very green, b.) Very foggy, and c.) Green and foggy. Eh, I hope to go to Ireland some day. It's very improbable, as I never have any money, (Aster knows this) and must mooch off others. Ha. Be thankful for your allowance, people, cause not everyone gets it, lol.  
  
Wow, I actually got reviewers. This is incredible. I can't believe you guys like the lame drunken butler chapter. But, eek. I didn't expect good reviews. Damn. I'll have to try harder to suck more next chapter. Lol. Maybe this chapter will do it.  
  
Alex (beware of the blonde): I agree totally. You know, I started writing this fic only because some other person (damn them) came up with my other fic idea first, and I was frustrated at the severe lack of dommie-fics. But, I'm happy. They didn't write it well anyway. Ha. I didn't know I was that good at getting to describing people that well, thanks! ^_^  
  
Demon sloth: No, this story sucks. No, this story sucks. *Hides in corner from assortment of attacking animals.* I will write more, don't hurt me! (Please?)  
  
Cattail prophetess: What do you mean I punctuate? Just because I don't on AIM, doesn't mean I never punctuate. Whateva. Even though you already read this, I hope the complete story will satisfy your lust for drvnk guys, whoever they are. Lol.  
  
Ok, I want five reviews this time. Sorry, but I'm suffering slightly from writer's block, and maybe something you people will say will help ease the pain and ease the next chapter along. I was really nice to you people, cause I knew what this chapter would have in it, but instead of withholding it from you guys another 3 days, I decided to let this one loose. I was home today anyway, so no nasty dorm blocks. 


End file.
